


i carry your heart

by clumsyclouds



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Ambassador Sokka (Avatar), Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Canon Compliant, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Firelord Zuko (Avatar), Fluff and Angst, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Hurt/Comfort, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Zuko (Avatar), Past Sokka/Yue (Avatar), Post-Canon, i think???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:02:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25820038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clumsyclouds/pseuds/clumsyclouds
Summary: carrying an entire nation in one's hand is a heavy and difficult thing, and zuko wonders if he'll manage, but there is another question that must be answered even though he fears the answer, and perhaps,becausehe fears the answer.who carries zuko's heart?
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 58





	1. you are whatever a moon has always been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant  
> and whatever a sun will always sing is you  
> here is the deepest secret nobody knows,
> 
> here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
> and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows  
> higher than a soul can hope or mind can hide  
> and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart:
> 
> i carry your heart
> 
> e.e. cummings - i carry your heart

“I’m scared,” Zuko whispers as his eyes slip shut. 

“I didn’t know you could be.” 

It’s meant to be funny, Zuko can tell, he knows by now when Sokka is trying to make him laugh, but he just can’t do it. It’s as if there’s a lid in his throat, forcing the laughter to stay there. Perhaps it’s because the fear still sits at the base of his stomach as if he’d swallowed a stone. 

Day and night he sits with that fear, and he becomes even more scared of what that fear might make him do, or might make him miss out on. Perhaps it was naive to think his father’s defeat would mean peace. Perhaps he’d underestimated his father’s grip on his people and overestimated his own strength to lead them out of the dark times. 

Perhaps, in the end, he’s still the Fire Prince, still thirteen, still smelling charred skin and bandages whenever the tears make him breathe in too hard. 

“What are you scared of?” he asks. 

“Everything.”

Sokka places a hand on Zuko’s knee, as if giving some of his strength, or maybe Sokka needs the physical contact as much as he does. Either way it seems to help, maybe. It’s hard to tell when the touch makes his heart race. 

“My life was...straight-forward, once upon a time. If you can believe it.” He almost said easy... How fucked up wouldn’t that be? “I’d capture the Avatar, regain my honour, become the Fire Lord and make my father proud. Then, I’d find a suitable woman, marry her, have children, die. Nothing would change and that’s...straight-forward, I think. It was supposed to be.”

“But then shit changed.”

Zuko scoffs. “Yeah, to put it mildly. Now I’m in charge of repairing everything my father destroyed. It’s fair, I know it is, but I just know I’ll mess it up somewhere. The war isn’t over yet, I can feel it. I know what the air tastes like in war time, what it smells like. It’s in the staleness of my robes, the itching where my hair is strung too tight. It’s ending, I can feel that, too, but one wrong move and I fall head first into the thick of it. Agni, I fought so hard to end it.”

It’s silent then, and the full moon shines bright upon them. He wonders if Sokka still thinks of that girl when he looks up. What was her name… Yuki? Yue? Yes, Yue. Not that he ever knew what she looked like, but she must’ve been beautiful, if her beauty was anything like the moon. 

A hand goes up to his scarred cheekbone, it’s rough and smooth at the same time, in that strange way that scar tissue is. It’s not beautiful at all. It makes him angry or...no, scared. Not of the scar itself but...of what it carries with it. His father will never leave him, after all. Whenever someone looks at him they will be reminded of what once was. He wonders how many people remember his scar as he burned down their home.

“She’s pretty tonight, isn’t she?” Sokka says, leaning back now, arms resting on the back of the bench. He’s looking up at the moon, and it shines in the dark of his eyes. 

Zuko hums in agreement. He looks up at the moon, too. ”Do you still love her?” 

“Who?”

“Your girlfriend. The one who turned into the moon, I mean.”

Sokka shrugs. Zuko almost thinks he’s meant to take that for an answer until... “Yeah, but I think a part of me will always love her. ‘Cause she was my first, you know? But I’m not hung up on her or anything. I think she’d slap me upside the head if I were.”

Zuko laughs again, quiet, but still genuine. 

With a deep sigh, he adds, “Although, if she could see me now I think she still might.” 

With that, Sokka removes his arms from the back and places them on his thighs. He looks like he might leave.

Panic rises in his throat, he didn’t think the night would end so soon. He has to do something to make Sokka stay, but what? There’s nothing _to_ do.

”For the record, and not that I’m sentimental or anything mushy like that, but...”

Zuko turns to look at him, and Sokka’s eyes are so bright it makes his chest tighten.

“You care so deeply about everything, big or small, important or not, and you fight harder than anyone I’ve ever met. And...well, Aang saved the world, no doubt, but I think you’re gonna change it.”

His mouth opens, as if the words are stuck for just a moment. “For the better?” Zuko asks, and almost feels like a child. 

”For the better.”

Zuko smiles, doesn’t know how to say thank you in a way that matters, in a way that will tell Sokka everything and nothing, and he doesn’t get the chance to say it either, the moment is over too quickly. Sokka stands up from the bench, avoiding Zuko’s eyes, which probably doesn’t mean anything, but then again, it means everything. 

It can’t be over yet, Sokka’s leaving in the morning and Zuko hasn’t even...well, he doesn’t know, he only knows that he needs more time. He’s the Fire Lord, dammit! That’s supposed to give him some power, but not over Sokka. Never over Sokka, and then he’s almost too far away to stop and then...

Zuko takes Sokka’s hand. 

And his brain short circuits because why _why whywhywhy._

This was a mistake, a huge mistake. Why can’t he ever just think? Now, Zuko thinks, Sokka will see the shame coming off him in waves, he’ll sense the weakness that drowns him each day whenever he must make a decision, and that wonderful person he saw in Zuko will go away, because all that’s left is desperation. It’s too late to backpedal now.

“Before you go, can I...” He swallows hard. It’s like sandpaper in his throat. “There’s something I want to show you.”

“Okay,” Sokka says, seemingly as in shock as Zuko, but not contemptuous. 

Without protest, without any pause, and with only the softest silence, Sokka follows Zuko through the winding hallways. They sneak past the guards, as if wanting to save this moment just for them. It makes Zuko feel shameful, as if he’s stealing something he cannot have, (because he can’t,) but it also brings him a giddiness that surely only children are supposed to feel, one that he never did. 

His robes swish against the tiles, not loud enough for the guards to detect, but it’s clear enough for him to once again be reminded of the stiffness of it. Agni, it’s a warm night tonight, and he should’ve found something more casual to wear. If only he could’ve escaped being the Fire Lord, just for a little while. 

The hallway ends with thin wood walls put up to mark where reconstruction of the temple had begun. Zuko pries one open and lets Sokka slip through before doing the same and making sure their intrusion is unnoticeable on a first glance. They should get to be alone, just this one time. 

A rickety ladder propped against the wall serves as their only way up to the ledge that will allow them an easy passage up to the roof. It requires a lot of arm strength, but it’s doable enough. Especially for the two of them. With ease, he climbs up, mindful of not tearing or stepping on his robes. At this point he could probably do it blindfolded, though.

He looks down to find Sokka holding onto the ladder, one foot on the first step. There’s confusion and uncertainty written all across his face. He must be staying silent either because they’re supposed to be sneaking, or perhaps because the silence seems too important to break for the moment. 

Zuko stretches his hand out, and smiles. It’s a careful one, but it does the trick as Sokka begins climbing the ladder and grabbing onto the other’s hand once he reaches the ledge.

A few seconds later they’re dusting themselves off and Zuko sits right down, facing the ocean and the moon. She’s still watching them, apparently. Once again he’s reminded of how selfish he’s being. 

“Sooo, why were we sneaking?” Sokka asks. “You’re the Fire Lord. Aren’t you allowed everywhere?”

He scoffs. “You think the Fire Lord is permitted privacy? After more than ten assassination attempts?”

His eyes go wide. “Ten? What—”

“Also, because it’s fun to sneak around like kids. It reminds me that I was one, once.”

He doesn’t want to talk about assassination attempts. Not when he’s risked his dignity just to spend more time with Sokka, and Sokka obliges, kind and understanding as he is.

“This is my secret spot. Here I get to be just Zuko.” He looks out over the horizon. The clouds have silver linings, and the ocean is calm. It feels like the right night to be here. 

“And what is ‘just Zuko’ thinking about?”

He takes a deep breath and feels his scalp ache with it for just a second. “That I’m still scared.”

He half-expects Sokka to get annoyed or something because surely he’s tired. They passed midnight a long time ago. Zuko forced him up here, and for what? Instead, as usual, Sokka never does what anyone expects, least of all Zuko. All he does is smile and scoot closer. Their thighs are touching now, and it’s...warm, in a sweet sort of way. 

“That’s okay,” he says. 

Almost in disbelief of it all, he adds, “I don’t think I’ll ever stop being scared.”

Sokka sighs and looks out at the ocean, still smiling. “That’s okay, too.”

And after that, they’re so quiet. 

And they’re so close. 

And the night is so soft that he thinks perhaps the spirits will be kind to him just this once. 

And the air feels different here, as if it’s fresh and clear for the first time. 

And maybe, just maybe, Zuko has gotten a taste of peace for future reference, so he will know when to exhale.

“Do you know what peace feels like?” he asks.

“Yeah.” He leans his head on Zuko’s shoulder. It slots perfectly into the crevice. “Do you?”

He smiles and rests his head on Sokka’s. “Yeah. I think so.”

  
  
  


.-::-.

  
  
  


The next morning Zuko wakes up in his room with no knowledge of how he got there.

(A sneaking suspicion is pushed down for fear that his heart might squeeze too tight and simply stop if he dares think about it for even just a second.)

All he knows for certain when he wakes up to bird song and the golden, gleaming sun is that he’s in his bed, covered in silk sheets and with his hair let down. The Fire Nation hairpiece and his ribbon have been neatly placed on his bedside table and his outer robes have been placed even neater on his chair by the bookshelf. It’s been smoothed out with care, and Zuko’s heart is dangerously close to squeezing again. 

Perhaps last night was partially a dream, but at least he still remembers the lightness of peace as his cheek leans atop Sokka’s head.


	2. at least, we'll get hurt trying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> love what you have and you'll have more love  
> you're not dying  
> everyone knows you're going to love  
> though there's still no cure for crying
> 
> firewood - regina spektor

With great sadness does Zuko watch the ship disappear beyond the horizon. He usually doesn’t feel this deep ache inside, but on this morning, Zuko wishes desperately that he’d be braver. If he were braver, then, perhaps, he wouldn’t feel selfish everytime he looks at the moon and thinks of Sokka. Then, perhaps, he’d find a way to make him stay. 

His heart whispers to him, but he hushes it for the same reason he didn’t want to remember how he got into bed last night. 

“A ship leaving always feels so sad, doesn’t it?”

Zuko turns around and beams at the sight of Iroh standing behind him on the pier. “Uncle!”

The man laughs as they embrace each other. He’s warm, and still smells of tea and forest. This hug has forgotten all that selfishness means and Zuko knows that this is home more than any building or room could ever dream of being. He’s home and he’s okay. Everything is going to be okay, he hopes.

“Someone left today,” Iroh says, posing it as a statement rather than a question. 

Zuko nods and buries his nose deeper into the crook of Iroh’s neck. “Yes.”

“Someone important?”

“Yes.”

They part and begin walking back to the pier. Iroh walks slower than Zuko, but that’s alright. Perhaps he can use the slower pace as an excuse to miss the meeting about further building plans for the east wing. His advisors could handle that for him. After all, he can’t just abandon an old man. That would be horribly rude and not at all becoming of a good and kind leader.

“You didn’t write to tell me you were coming,” he says, noticing the fire lilies have just begun sprouting up from the road.

“Can an old man not visit his family without making plans? You should always be ready for me, Zuko.” 

He chuckles in response and gives a nod to a woman sitting on a bench as they walk by. He’ll never get used to the awe in their eyes. He’s only a man, after all, maybe not even that. A boy. He hasn’t proven himself as Fire Lord yet, they haven’t given him the time. 

“So, what news have you of daily life in the capital?”

Merely thinking about diplomacy and reformation makes a yawn push up from his chest, but Zuko manages to keep it down. “Negotiations are going well with both Water Tribes. In fact, they’ve decided to open up a permanent shop downtown with regular shipments coming in each month. It’s only a start, of course.”

Iroh hums. “I’ve heard seal jerky is supposed to be amazing.”

Zuko halts himself from making a grimace. Sokka would probably notice anyway and make fun of him. “I’ve also begun rebuilding certain parts of the palace. Some were old and in need of repair and others...”

“Reminded you of your father.”

He nods.

Iroh pauses, perhaps thinking of his own memories of that place, and of all the haunted hallways. “You must show me the building plans, then.”

.-::-.

The day comes and goes, and the next day, Iroh wakes Zuko up with the sunrise to meditate. They go out to the small courtyard just outside Zuko’s window where they’ll get some modicum of privacy. It’s the only place where the guards don’t follow him around like hawks. 

Anyway, Zuko tries to keep his mind focused and calm, and look, he’s genuinely _trying._ It’s just that he also miserably fails at it because it’s like he can still hear Sokka laughing. His stupid jokes fill every corner of his mind even though he’s supposed to think of the spirits. 

Iroh’s breathing is still slow and calm, but his own grows comparatively erratic.

_I think you’re gonna change it._

Who had placed his hairpiece on his bedside table with such care, and who’d rolled up the string so neatly, and who’d smoothed out his robes over the chair? Of course he knows, but why won’t he accept it? Why is he still so scared of the answer?

_A part of me will always love her. ‘Cause she was my first, you know?_

_There will be others,_ he tells himself. _You are my first, but there will be other’s because I will never have you. You are my moon, and I wish you weren’t._

“Zuko!”

His eyes snap open, he’s suddenly jerked out of mediation. Not that he was ever fully in it. 

“What?” he snaps, turning to Iroh. 

The response is a stern gaze.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko says, turning his eyes forward again and taking a deep breath. 

  
“You are not focused.” He doesn’t scold, much to Zuko’s surprise, not even light-heartedly. “What troubles you, Zuko?”

With a deep breath, he closes his eyes again. “The war isn’t over yet, is it, uncle?”

This is the moment where Iroh tells him that no, it isn’t over, and that he must find his own courage to end it. He will be told that he must lead his people towards a time of prosperity, and that he will do it so long as he remains fair and just. It’s the same old story. It always feels better when it comes from his uncle, but it’s still nothing new, and he’ll still be stuck.

“Not for you.”

Zuko pauses. He tries to rethink if he perhaps misunderstood, but... “What?”

“You are at war with yourself, and so, before you can move on and find true happiness, you must make peace with yourself.”

Of course, he’d say something stupid and flimsy like that, and of course, just this once Zuko knows exactly what the root of the problem is, and that if such is the case, he doesn’t know that he’ll ever make peace with himself.

“It’s going to hurt.”

He hums in agreement and contemplation. “Oh yes! Life always hurts, or were you not aware?”

Zuko huffs, not quite in the mood for teasing remarks about how little he knows of life, but of course, how could he know? Just because he was forced to grow up does not mean the universe bestowed him with any wisdom. He’s had to make his path in life on his own, and he barely managed that, as is evident by this conversation. How small he must seem to everyone. 

“Then I should do nothing? Just accept that I will forever be in pain?”

“No, Zuko. You must choose. You can let the pain fester until your soul turns bitter and cold, or you can get hurt trying and then be at peace, knowing that you gave yourself your best chance.”

Zuko hums, tucking one knee beneath his chin. He’s given up on meditation at this point in favour of glaring at the tiny spring between the windows where the hint of the ocean glitters back at him. It’s difficult to tell whether it’s taunting him or beckoning him to come. He’d like to think it’s the latter, and that perhaps Sokka is thinking of something similar on his side of the world. At least, they’re looking up at the same sun.


	3. i didn't do it right, can i try again?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i glow pink in the night in my room, i've been blossoming alone over you  
> and i hear my heart breaking tonight, i hear my heart breaking tonight  
> do you hear it too?  
> it's like a summer shower with every drop of rain singing i love you, i love you, i love you
> 
> mitski - pink in the night

Zuko never did figure out whether the sea was taunting or beckoning, nor whether Sokka ever thought of him, and instead waited for months until his next visit to the Fire Nation. He thinks perhaps he misses Sokka’s hugs.

What he truly feels is no longer a secret, at least not to himself, but he refrains from thinking too much about it for fear that it will hurt. After this realisation he also dreads the week leading up to the arrival of the Southern Water Tribe. Sokka will be there, and he’ll try to get Zuko to skip out on his duties in favour of sneaking down to the market or the little hidden shore where they’d swim in the ocean. They’ll have so much fun, as usual, but this time, it will hurt Zuko so much more. 

He arrives late to their first meeting on purpose, if only to avoid having to greet Sokka personally. Then he scurries off back to his office under the protection of the crowd making their way out of the room. 

Of course, it isn’t long before Sokka barges through the door, guards following him in with their weapons raised, seemingly at a loss for what to do. 

Zuko waves them away, and they close the door as they leave. 

“No hug from my favourite Fire Lord then?” he says, half-teasing and half-indignant. In fact, he almost sounds genuinely hurt. Hopefully, that’s a misinterpretation.

Zuko smiles wryly at the thought of Sokka wanting a hug from him as he signs a letter. Would he still come here if he knew what Zuko really felt?

“I mean, what happened, man? Suddenly you go all cold on me? You weren’t even at the pier to greet us!” 

“I didn’t think you were the mushy type.” He stands up, already making his way around the table. He’s so lucky to still be able to function like normal around Sokka. At some point that’ll probably stop as well, but he decides to make the most of it while he still can.

“I’m not!” Sokka crosses his arms and turns away, making an attempt at an angry face.

Zuko melts, obviously, and opens his arms. “Come on then.”

No second is wasted as Sokka smiles and immediately wraps Zuko up in the tightest embrace yet. He isn’t sure he can actually breathe, but he doesn’t care. He buries his nose in the crook of Sokka’s neck. The smell of the sea still lingers in his clothes.

“I missed you, man,” he says. The teasing and mirth is gone, replaced by a tenderness Zuko isn’t sure he deserves.

“Missed you, too,” he replies. If he wishes hard enough maybe they can stay like this all day. 

But after a while, the spell, or whatever it was that made Zuko feel so calm, breaks. Sokka steps back and pats Zuko on the shoulder. 

“Come on. They’re serving lunch in half an hour.”

.-::-.

They _do_ get work done, really, it’s just that Sokka is also very good at convincing Zuko to sneak away. Especially after dinner when everyone is far too tired and overheated for meetings. Even Zuko will admit that it’s been an abnormally warm day, which Sokka naturally complains about. All he knows is how to complain about the Fire Nation heat.

In favour of his own well-being and perhaps to not be so easily recognised he lets down his hair and leaves the royal robes behind. The clothes he wore while travelling with the gang are bordering on too small, but they fit well enough and they were the closest ones he had around. He feels older and younger all at the same time. 

When he sees Sokka on their secret beach he’s wearing the clothes he wore while travelling, too. The coincidence is almost startling. They’re slightly too short and the shirt is almost too tight. He still pulls it off flawlessly.

“Hey!” he calls once he’s done staring. 

_Creep._

Sokka waves and gets up from the ground. That pang of selfishness returns, because Sokka doesn’t know. Oh, _spirits,_ he doesn’t know. That was an issue he hadn’t even considered until now. How messed up isn’t it to have Sokka think this is just an innocent friendship while Zuko thinks of him as...well, he doesn’t have the exact word. He just knows Sokka is _something._

“The water is so nice, you _have_ to get in.” He grabs Zuko’s hand and pulls him down to where the ocean water splashes up on the sand. His feet get covered and he smiles, closing his eyes and looking up at the sky. His hand is warm to the touch, and...not soft, but... He thinks gentle is the right word. He hasn’t known gentleness in a long time.

However, when the water touches Zuko’s feet he makes a noise (which he will _not_ admit sounded like a squealing pig) and jumps away. “That’s freezing cold, are you insane?”

“What?” He clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes before once again grabbing onto Zuko’s hand. “We had the same damn conversation last time I was here. Oh, it’s too cold! I’m gonna freeze to death! Well, I’m about to melt into a puddle of sweat and I’m not going in alone. So suck it up, jerkbender.”

Zuko pulls away, but not yet letting go of Sokka’s hand. It feels nice to pull and not be let go of. 

“That was different! This is _way_ colder.”

“Is not!”

“Is, too!”

Finally, Sokka relents and steps out of the water. He also lets go of Zuko’s hand. He almost regrets not going into the water, but perhaps that’s another thing that makes him creepy. 

“So, what do we do instead?”

He looks out over the horizon. “We could always sit here and just talk. I’d love to hear how Katara and Aang are doing.”

Sokka paces around, hands behind his back, seemingly still listening, but acting very...suspicious. “Mhmm,” is all the response he gets. 

“Sokka, are you listening? What are you doing?”

He looks at Zuko and takes one step closer. “Oh, nothing, just...”

_Splash!_

The world spins around him as Sokka pushes him into the water. The cold that surrounds him and makes his blood freeze is fierce, and he can feel water entering his nose as he breathes in at _just_ the wrong time. Since they’re still in shallow water his back hits the bottom quick enough, and therefore he’s back above the surface in five seconds maximum.

He twists around, trying to see where Sokka’s run off to and finds the guy just swimming! He’s swimming further into the ocean like nothing is bothering him. Clothes and everything. Asshat.

“Come back here!” he shouts. 

“You want revenge? You’re gonna have to get in the water to get me!”

Zuko debates it for about half a second before diving head first into the water and chasing after him. He thinks himself annoyed right up until he notices a smile forming on his face. It’s care-free and genuine and so wide it almost hurts.

“You’ve messed with the wrong firebender!”

Sokka laughs. “What are you gonna do? We’re in the middle of the ocean.”

Zuko finally catches up to him. He can still fully stand, the water reaches up to the middle of his chest as they begin circling around each other. “And what are _you_ gonna do? Should’ve brought Katara.”

“Oh, Fire Lord Zuko, my sister might be the best waterbender alive, but can she do this?” With his palms open and facing Zuko he shoves the water towards him in a massive splash that makes his hair completely cover his eyes until he can remove it. 

A battle has begun, and for the honour of the Fire Nation, Zuko is not going to take it lying down.

“Two can play that game,” Zuko says and spins with his hand just lightly touching the surface. 

The water splashes in sharp droplets heading straight towards Sokka’s face, but he quickly dodges it with another shove, blocking the droplets. The shove then hits Zuko full force and he once more inhales a big gulp of salty water.

“Bested again by the mighty Sokka!” he says, bumping his fist into the air.

Meanwhile, Zuko is coughing up his lungs. Spirits, that stuff is atrocious. Apparently he coughs for long enough to make Sokka concerned. He wades over to Zuko and begins patting him on the back. 

“Let it all out, there we go. You don’t have to scare me just because you lost.”

Once the water is out of his lungs he smirks, still looking down. “Lost, huh?”

It seems Sokka’s already anticipating Zuko’s next move, because he backs away. He’s moving to get back into a swimming position when Zuko grabs a hold of his wrist and shoulder and then proceeds to dunk him into the water. What Zuko doesn’t anticipate is Sokka grabbing him, too, pulling him under and then pushing Zuko further down to get back up. 

Dammit, he’d just gotten the water out of his nose. 

When he breaks the surface he shakes the water out of his hair before finding Sokka laughing in front of him. It’s one of those full belly laughs, snorts and wheezes and everything. Most people look goofy, Sokka included, but Zuko still smiles and thinks perhaps it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. Zuko absentmindedly wonders how Sokka sees him.

“Okay, even _I’m_ getting cold now. Let’s get out of the water,” Sokka says and swims in towards land. 

It doesn’t take long for them to sit down on one of the larger stones by the shore where at least the sand won’t stick to their drenched clothes. The surface is still warm from the sun shining on it all day. There isn’t too much space so they have to sit really close, which makes Zuko want to bury himself under the sand, but also makes every nerve flare up and a smile twitch at the corners of his mouth. 

Being like this, with their old clothes, with the fabric stretching to reach their ankles and fitting around their shoulders, makes him feel the passage of time, and it’s almost physical. Was the world simpler back then? Or maybe him and Sokka were simpler back then. Zuko almost cringes at his own thoughts, it hasn’t even been _that_ long. He isn’t an old man quite yet. Just older than he was a few years ago.

“Are you still scared?” Sokka asks suddenly, shifting imperceptibly closer to Zuko. Of course, Zuko notices. 

“Yes.” He swallows hard, the salt of the ocean scrapes against his throat. “But I’m scared of different things now.”

“Like what?”

_You._

Naturally, he doesn’t say it out loud. In fact, he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to lie, but he can’t think of an answer that would satisfy Sokka. Luckily, it seems he takes Zuko’s silence as enough of an answer and just looks back at the ocean. It’s a wonder, really, how a man so understanding and so in tune to the people around him would stay friends with Zuko of all people. 

“Whatever it is, we’ll get through it. After all, we’ve faced worse.”

Zuko isn’t too sure about that, but he doesn’t protest. “Well, what are you scared of?”

He sighs, heavy and long, before leaning back and propping his hands on the stone and leaning back, head tilting up towards the sky. This question doesn’t get answered either, and it’s probably for the best. Sokka’s entitled to secrets, just like Zuko. This gives him the chance to repay Sokka’s kindness, small as the gesture is.

“Do you remember what I told you about the war not really being over?” he asks instead of pressing on. 

“Yeah.”

Zuko takes a deep breath. He tells himself he’ll feel better afterwards. It’s usually true. “Uncle Iroh told me that it’s me, that I’m at war with myself.”

Sokka scoffs. “Is that why you always look so grumpy? I thought that was just how Fire Lords were supposed to be.”

“Hey!” Zuko nudges Sokka’s side, but he smiles despite himself and despite...everything.

“Well, what are you gonna do about it?” Sokka asks.

Such a simple question, really, and yet he’s never been more conflicted. “Either I do the right and selfless thing even though it’s gonna hurt for a long time, or I do the selfish thing and make a fool of myself.”

“Neither of those things sound very good.”

“No, they don’t.”

Sokka tucks the strands of hair that got loose from his wolf’s tail behind his ears. “I’m actually facing a similar decision, and I don’t have a lot of time left to make up my mind.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I know what I _want_ to do. I just don’t think I’m brave enough.”

It almost knocks the wind out of him, because how could Sokka, the Southern Water Tribe boy, the boy who threw a boomerang at the Prince of the Fire Nation not be brave? How could the boy who always dove head first into danger for the sake of his friends, the boy who didn’t care more about customs and etiquette than telling it like it is, be anything _but_ brave?

“I think you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met,” he says, nearly breathless with surprise. 

Sokka looks at him, eyes wide and sad, and everything that they shouldn’t be. Zuko feels horrible for wanting to kiss him then and there. He’d do it if he thought even for a second that it might’ve made Sokka happier, but it wouldn’t. It couldn’t.

“I wish I was the guy you see me as,” Sokka says.

“I wish the same.” He winces. “I mean, I wish I was half as good as the man you think I am.”

Sokka’s little finger brushes against Zuko’s and he’s once again reminded of the non-existent distance between them. He gulps, perhaps looks more scared than he wants to look, but he doesn’t move away. In fact, if such should be the case that he, too, moves his finger closer, well, then that’s no one’s business but his own. 

He wonders briefly if tonight will be a repeat of the last time they had a heart-to-heart, but Zuko’s simultaneous hopes and fears are crushed as Sokka pulls away, and this time he does it completely. 

For the first time, _he’s_ the one to suggest going back home and blaming it on being tired. Not that it’s an implausible excuse, but the sun has barely set, and… No, Zuko isn’t gonna make a big deal out of this. It’s not about him. He’s not the centre of the world just because he’s the Fire Lord.

  
  
  


The walk back through the town and through the palace is eerily quiet.

  
  
  


“Thank you, for tonight,” Sokka says and looks down into the ornate tiles by the hallway where they must part ways. 

“I should be thanking _you._ ”

“Right.” He makes an attempt at a laugh, but it falls flat. “Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, Sokka.” Zuko aches again when Sokka walks down the hallway. His head is hanging and he’s fiddling with the callouses on his palms, and he looks so sad. Zuko wishes he had the courage to follow him, to do...something, but he doesn’t have it, and so, he simply walks back to his room, unable to fall asleep no matter how much he tries. He blames the heat even though he knows it’s anything but. 

.-::-.

They don’t see much more of each other during the coming three days. Zuko almost feels as though Sokka’s already left, and it feels horrible. He doesn’t think he can stand it for much longer. It’ll almost be easier once he _does_ leave because then, at least, they won’t have to see each other in stuffy meetings where all Zuko can think of is the heat of Sokka’s thigh against his or the way his eyes would shine when looking at the moon.

He’s absolutely hopeless. 

And he’s even more hopeless when he’s saying goodbye to all the delegates as they prepare to leave. It’s all very formal and proper, until he gets to Sokka. Most of them have already begun leaving through the gates, and they don’t have much time left. Suddenly, he’s aching.

“Goodbye, Zuko.” He adjusts the bag strapped over his shoulder, and doesn’t quite meet his eyes. 

“See you soon, I imagine? The Fire Lily Festival is in four months and I’ve invited you all back for it.”

Sokka looks down and scuffs his feet. “Actually, there’s been, uhm, stuff going on back home and I need to help out. I don’t think I’ll be able to get away.”

“Oh.” His mouth is dry, and it feels like everything is falling apart, as though he’s lived in an illusion all this time. Maybe he has. “Next time, then?”

He gives Zuko a half-smile. “Yeah, maybe next time.”

Then he’s turning around and leaving. He doesn’t even look back, but then again, why should he? There’s nothing for him to look back to, he’s going home. If anything, he has everything to look _forward_ to. 

Even once he disappears behind a corner, Zuko watches, perhaps living in the dream that Sokka would come back. He doesn’t move even after several minutes have passed.

“Have you accomplished what you set out to accomplish?” Iroh asks, taking his place beside Zuko with a cup of steaming hot tea in his hands.

“What?” he asks, sounding too obviously defeated before he can do anything about it. 

“With the delegates, I mean. You sat through plenty of meetings so I imagine you’ve come to _some_ decisions.”

Zuko scoffs. “Yeah. The negotiations went great.”

Iroh hums. “But you did not make the right decision in regards to your war.”

At this point, he’s stopped wondering how Iroh always reads him like an open book, and he’s stopped being ashamed of admitting truths in front of him. With anyone else, he’d vehemently deny, but there’s no use.

“I don’t know,” he says, “but it’s too late to change my mind now.”

Iroh sips his tea, looking at Zuko over the rim of the cup. “Is it?”

No. Nope. Even as his heartbeats speed up he refuses to give himself false hope. Just this once, Iroh is wrong. He _has_ to be. There’s no path he can choose to make this end happily.

“It’s not mutual, so what’s the point?”

“There is always a point in being honest, no matter the consequences.”

Zuko wonders why Iroh can never seem to leave well enough alone. _Of course,_ he wants to run after Sokka, but at this point it’s too late, he’ll never make it. Not to mention that he may speak his truth, but what then? He’ll never see Sokka again, and that almost seems like a far worse fate. 

“Uncle, he’s so good. How am I ever meant to be worthy of him?”

It takes a while for him to answer, but once he does, he does it with a knowing smile and a kind hand on Zuko’s shoulder. 

“By being brave.”

For a second, he doubts. This is the turning point. He can do what he’s wanted to do ever since that morning after his and Sokka’s late night adventure, he can be bold and brave and do what he hopes will make him happy, or he can stay. He can go back inside, shrug off his uncle’s comfort and learn to deal with the pain as it comes and goes. It’s familiar and it’s what he’s dealt with his whole life. 

Ultimately, the question boils down to if he, after all these years, truly believes in his own worth. 

And the answer is an easy one. Sokka believes that Zuko can change the world for the better and that he can get through anything, and so, Zuko has to believe that, too. 

He gives his uncle a nod and then he bolts. 

The wind whips against his face as he races towards the pier. They’re leaving any minute, and now that he’s made the decision he can’t fail. That’s just not an option. Although, the long robes do risk getting in his way if he isn’t careful. 

He groans, grabbing the lower part and bunching it up in his hand. Somewhere behind him he can hear his hairpiece clatter against the pavement, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except his feet moving faster and faster until his muscles burn. He’s running out of air even as he breathes harder and harder. It’s been so long since he’s run like this, but he was running away back then. This time he rushes head first into his own deepest fear. 

If this truly is his final battle against himself, then he intends to win, no matter the cost. 

Then, the pier is in sight. The ship, too, but thank the spirits, he can still see people boarding. They haven’t departed yet, and that means he has a chance. 

One final burst of speed until he reaches the pier where he slows down. He sees Sokka taking the first step onto it, and he looks sad and wistful. Zuko hopes that it means he feels the same way.

“Sokka!” He’s almost stumbling over his own feet at this point, but he’s not there yet. “Sokka, in the name of myself, the Fire Lord and the Fire Nation, do _not_ board that ship!”

Finally, he can stop, hands resting on his knees as he gasps for breath. He blows at the hair that’s fallen in front of his face, but it does little good. His breaths are laboured, but it doesn’t matter. He made it. 

Sokka is looking at him now, eyes wide with surprise as he runs up to Zuko. “Zuko, what are you doing? Are you okay?”

“I’m being brave, Sokka. I’m—” He clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “I’m asking you to stay. Please, stay.”

“F-For how long?” Sokka asks as if he can’t quite believe it, which is fair. Zuko can’t quite believe it himself, despite his lungs and the metal taste in his mouth telling him otherwise.

“For as long as you can stand living with me,” he says with a breathy laugh, eyebrows pinched together. 

Sokka looks back at the other delegates. They’re still watching with variably shocked expressions. He opens and closes his mouth, making what might be the start of a word, but nothing comes out. Zuko can’t tell if that’s a good or a bad sign, but nonetheless the shame threatens to creep up his neck and choke him. 

“Well?” he prompts.

A look of determination precedes the softest smile and without another moment’s wait, Sokka kisses Zuko, pulling him forward by the front of his robes. 

The whirlwind of emotions, the unbridled joy and the overwhelming calm that overtakes Zuko’s mind pulls the rug from under his feet, conflicting as the feelings are, and at once, he knows. _This_ is peace. 

Zuko’s smiling even as the kiss breaks apart. His arms are resting on Sokka’s shoulders, hands holding the back of his head like they were always meant to be there.

“I’ll see you in a couple of months,” he shouts to the ship, not breaking eye contact for even a second. Then, he adds, for Zuko only, “I’m staying right here.”

And this time, Zuko exhales.


End file.
